


Secrets

by writingintheclouds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Insecure Harry, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingintheclouds/pseuds/writingintheclouds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one thing Harry was absolutely sure of - no one could find out about his secrets. Unfortunately, secrets are there to be exposed, are they not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a very short 3 chapter story.

There was one thing Harry was absolutely sure of – no one could find out about his secrets. Being in a boy band brought along a lot of perks, if, you know, you were actually straight. You had millions of girls crushing on you, admiring you and basically wanting to get in your pants, practically served on a silver tablet waiting for you to grab them. 

Understandably, the other members were grateful about being loved to this extent. Harry was too, of course – but there was a part of him that wished they just finally knew. Knew that Harry wasn’t interested in them at all. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell the others. It was weird, having such a big secret and no one knowing about it. Not even Louis, his best friend since the X-Factor days. Louis, who he was uncontrollably in love with. 

Harry was good at hiding - especially his feelings. Or, well, at least he thought so. He definitely was good in hiding other things too. Like razors and scars. 

Secrets no one should ever find out. The mere thought of it made his skin crawl.

No, it was all good like this. They were oblivious. They thought Harry was all fine and didn’t dwell in sadness and depression. They thought Harry was straight as hell, happy and confident and it was best this way. 

.  
.  
.

When they were on tour Harry hid his razors in a small box underneath the bathroom sink where there always was a cabinet. It was a place no one ever bothered to open, except him. 

Harry sighed and looked in the mirror. They had a photoshoot today, nothing unusual. The only problem was the fact that he spent all night staying awake, unable to sleep. Naturally he had walked to the bathroom and, well... done things he wasn’t proud of. 

There were dark circles under his eyes, and over all he looked damn wasted. Exactly how he felt on the inside. The worst thing was his right wrist; normally he never cut his arm and wrist area, because obviously it was visible to everyone (he couldn’t wear bracelets and long sleeves all the time, could he?). But last night, he just... didn’t think. Or care at all. And now he was paying for both his stupidity and impulsiveness. 

He heard a loud knock on the door. “Harry, the fuck are you doing in there?” It was Zayn. He sounded pretty rushed. “Hurry up, we’re late. Liam’s losing it already.”

“Just a sec,” Harry said and tried to put a smile on his face. He needed to wear the bracelets, no matter what. He couldn’t take them off for the photoshoot. Fortunately they covered up his cuts perfectly. 

When he opened the door and stepped out, Zayn gripped him by his wrist before Harry could walk off. He winced as the pain of his cuts increased. “You look miserable,” Zayn pointed out needlessly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry lied and gave him his crooked grin. “Let’s not make the others wait any longer.”

But Zayn had to intention whatsoever to let him go, instead he tightened his grip. Even though Harry bit his tongue, he couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain anymore. 

“Harry, you don’t _look_ fine.” Zayn hesitated for a second, and then he added: “You know you can talk to me if there’s something, right?”

Slowly, Harry freed himself from the tight grip. There was no way that Zayn knew anything. After all, Harry did look terrible today. “Of course, mate,” he said with a lazy smile. “I _am_ fine though, don’t worry.”


	2. II

“Let’s get some food, lads!” 

“Niall, we’ve just had breakfast. And also, we’re late for the photoshoot.” Liam sighed in annoyance as he turned to the driver. “Don’t listen to him; we’re heading straight to the shoot.” 

“But I’m hungry,” Niall whined. 

“You’re _always_ hungry,” Louis murmured so quietly that no one heard it. Except Harry, who was sitting right next to him. 

Harry tried not to stare at Louis, which was rather difficult because he was the most stunning and interesting person in the car. 

“Hey, Hazza,” Louis suddenly said, his eyes fixated on Harry’s wrist. “What’s that?”

Those words brought him back to reality. Hastily, Harry pulled his sleeve down. Fuck.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, maybe a bit too quickly – Louis raised his eyebrows. “Hey, d’you guys know what kinda shoot this is?” In his desperate attempt to change the subject, Liam turned his head from the front seat to look at Harry in disbelief.

“Dude, it’s for the new album cover. The hell has gotten into you?” 

Harry could feel Louis stare at him for the rest of the drive. But he didn’t address the cuts again – in fact, he barely spoke anything for the next half an hour.

Harry felt even more terrible than he did before. It was the first time someone saw. Why did it have to be him? Why Louis, out of all people? 

He knew Louis wasn’t going to leave this topic. He knew that as soon as they got back to their tour bus, they were going to have a conversation. 

And never in his life has Harry been more scared than in that very moment realisation hit him.

.  
.  
.

The photoshoot turned out to be worse than he expected – and Harry already did expect an absolute disaster. Not only did the stylist insists on him taking off the bracelets but he also needed to wear a short sleeved short, matching the other outfits of the boys.

“Come on, Harry, why are you so stubborn?” she asked, her voice sounding rather annoyed. Harry shook his head, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“Do the bracelets really matter though? I can put my hands behind my back, can’t I?” As he was speaking, he noticed how desperate he sounded. 

All of a sudden, the door opened and Harry could hear someone enter the room. “What’s the matter? You’ve been taking hours!” 

Fuck. Harry didn’t even need to turn around to know who just asked the question. Why, why did it have to be Louis? Why him? 

“Our dear Harry doesn’t want to take his bracelets off,” she sighed. “You try to convince him, Louis, I’ve got to check Niall’s hair.” And then she left the dressing room, leaving Louis and Harry alone, the latter with an inner panic attack. 

Harry tried to look as calm as possible, but he was pretty sure he failed. Louis raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry, his expression clearly saying that he wasn’t buying any of his bullshit.

“Harry,” he said, then paused before continuing, “Something’s off with you. Tell me.” 

Harry shook his head, avoiding Louis’ glance. “I’m perfectly fine-“

“Don’t lie to me,” Louis said, sounding almost angry. “Why won’t you just take the damn bracelets off? Like, what’s the matter with you? Why are you acting like you’ve got something to hide?”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Harry replied instantly. “And I – I just like them a lot, okay? Gemma gave them to me, I don’t want to take them off, they have a very special meaning-“

“You’re lying. You always lie when you look down. Take the damn bracelets off.”

Feeling incredibly pressurized and panicked, Harry blurted out: “You can right fuck off, all right? If I don’t want to take them off, I won’t. Simple as that.”

It wasn’t until Louis’ draw slightly dropped and his eyes looked at him with genuine surprise, he realized what exactly he’d said in his outburst. Harry barely cursed, unless he was really upset or emotionally unstable, and Louis knew that all too well. He’d known this side of Harry since the X Factor days, and there were a few times everything had gotten too much for him. 

His answer was surprisingly soft. “That wasn’t a question, Harry. Either you do it, or I will.” Although his tone of voice was very calm, Harry got the indicated threat behind them. 

Louis crossed his arms over his chest, patiently looking at Harry, who was growing more and more desperate of the situation. “Well?”

Harry let out a sigh. “Please don’t make me?” His voice sounded as miserable as he felt. “We can talk later, but not here, not now. It’s not – I’m not ready, okay?”

There was slight hesitation, but eventually, after Harry tried to look as pleading as possible, Louis gave in. “All right. I’ll talk to Stacy. You can keep them on.”


End file.
